


in space (all I think about is you & me)

by KathrynShadow



Category: DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League Odyssey
Genre: Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, on account of space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16148756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathrynShadow/pseuds/KathrynShadow
Summary: It starts out as a tickle at the back of his neck, the Azrael armor’s contacts embedded in his nervous system reacting to his new suit detecting something.





	in space (all I think about is you & me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProtoDan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoDan/gifts).



> title blatantly stolen from Ludo because I hate coming up with original titles!
> 
> Odyssey is fun so far and it's the prettiest I've ever seen literally any of its characters drawn so like. read it
> 
> couldn't FULLY resist a poorly-written-Batman callout post but I did my best to muffle it
> 
> Father Myriel's name is stolen from ProtoDan's WIP but he also stole it from Les Mis so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It starts out as a tickle at the back of his neck, the Azrael armor’s contacts embedded in his nervous system reacting to his new suit detecting something. A signal, from the alert level—someone with a Bat’s credentials, but nothing urgent. Jean-Paul opens his eyes, half-awake at first just from old habits and then—

He’s untold light-years away. The only people who would try to contact him know he’s gone; the only ones who would try to contact him like that know where he is. Even if they needed him, trying to get in touch would be a waste of time; so if it’s not that they  _ need  _ him—

This shouldn’t have worked.

Jean-Paul scrambles to his feet, spinning to the empty Suit standing guard by the side of his makeshift bed, fingers clumsy on the gauntlet as he unlatches the holographic interface on the vambrace. The picture is the fuzziest it’s ever been (and not just because his glasses are still on the floor and he tries not to nap in his contact lenses), static clinging to the edges and crawling across the middle, but it’s unmistakably Lucas’s eyes staring back at him in grayscale light.

“Lucas,” he says.

Lucas’s smile is like the daybreak, and the hologram appears about as prepared to deal with it as Jean-Paul himself is; the picture vanishes entirely for a solid couple of seconds, but the audio comes through. “Hey there,” he says. “I didn’t think—” okay, the audio  _ mostly  _ comes through— “would work.”

Jean-Paul can’t help his laugh. “I didn’t either,” he says. “I tried to contact you. It was too far for the Suit to find you.”

“Well,” Lucas says with one of the smuggest grins Jean-Paul has ever seen on another human being, “the Suit isn’t me. Even if it is pretty incredible.”

“True,” Jean-Paul says. He wants to go for his glasses, see what he can at least a little more clearly, but he doesn’t want to risk the connection going out while he’s fumbling around. “How did you do it?”

The audio goes out again, but Jean-Paul can see Lucas laughing. “—just say Bruce won’t be too happy with me when I’m done,” he says. “Not that he’s happy with anybody right now—”

Jean-Paul winces. He knows that Bruce needs help that Jean-Paul wouldn’t be able to give, but he does feel a little guilty for not being there to help the others, at least. (And for being a little glad, so privately he hadn’t even gotten around to voicing it to Father Myriel before he had to leave the atmosphere, that he was light-years away while Bruce was lashing out like a wounded animal.)

“—just needed to talk to you,” Lucas says. His eyes are soft around the edges. If he were here, or Jean-Paul were there—

—then Jean-Paul wouldn’t be where he’s needed the most. But he can still dwell, however briefly, on how Lucas’s face dimples even when he’s barely smiling; remember how his close-cropped beard feels like during a kiss. “Me too,” he says softly.


End file.
